I can be a bit of a braggart when it comes to extolling my friends and their many accolades. Simply put, they’re rockstar badasses who continuously inspire me and enrich my existence. Some circumnavigate entire continents on their motorcycles, while others are busy saving the world or…waxing poetic about meat. What I am about to share with you is a treat unlike any other you’ve previously treated on. Pablo Neruda once courted me with his odes to familiar foods like bread and artichokes and olives (would you quit it, Pablo? I’m swooning), but I was blind to the virtues of true verse until I met Rachel. Neruda’s talent was cultivated over the span of an entire career, whereas Rachel’s raw and innate aptitude was unearthed when she was just an itty bitty elementary school kiddy. Without further ado, I introduce you to my all-time favorite poem, entitled “Meat,” by Rachel L. While you may find the title elusive, read on and you’ll see that Rachel excels at shedding light on the esoteric topic.

Meat, Meat, Meat,

Cow Meat

Track Meet

Red, Brown, Brunt Meat

Dark Meat, White Meat,

Those are just a few.

Lean Meat

Fat Meat

Ground, Chunky, Small Meat,

Bacon Meat, Beef Meat.

Jerky Meat, too,

Sausage Meat,

Pork Meat,

Don’t forget Pig Meat,

Last of all, best of all,

I like fried Chicken Meat.

When introduced to something this profound, it’s only natural to be left with questions. I find it’s best to sit with these questions, as they will likely work themselves out in good time. For instance, maybe you’re wondering what brunt meat is, and maybe one day the answer will be illuminated for you. Or maybe Rachel misspelled “burnt,” and to this day (over fifteen years later), is too proud to admit it or allow me to correct it in the poem. Perhaps you’re curious about how a third grader was quick-witted enough to incorporate “track meet” into a poem about comestible meats. I try not to speculate about pure genius, as it can make the rest of us laypeople feel inferior.

Since my last two posts have been…beefy, I will stick with the theme and close this entry with my most coveted red-meat recipe. Back in the day, my friend Chad (who graced us with a guest entry in June), introduced me to a family friend of his named Gigi. Gigi, in addition to being one of the warmest and most fascinating people I have ever met, cooks the most ridiculously good burgers. I like my burgers piled high with toppings, but I dislike how they slide off of my burger as I bite into it. Gigi solved this rather grave grievance of mine by incorporating toppings into her patties before cooking them. This ensures that you make less of a mess while eating (if you are not me), and also, that you taste your toppings in each bite you take. Since I typically just make one ginormous burger for myself, I am not sure how many burgers this recipe realistically makes. Whether it yields 6 or 26 patties, though, rest assured that you’ll be eating them all. Below are actual statements that have been made about these burgers.

“Lindsay, I’m having trouble concentrating on what you’re saying because you have barbecue sauce smeared all over your chin.”

“Lindsay, are any of the ten burgers on your plate for me, or should I find something else to eat?”

“Lindsay, thanks for allowing me one bite of your ten burgers. WOW! We should definitely sell these out of a food truck. We’d make bank!”

Gigi’s “Gosh, these are great!” Burgers

1 pound lean ground beef

1 pound ground turkey

1 pound ground buffalo meat

1 large yellow onion, diced

2 cups shredded cheddar cheese

salt and pepper

1-2 cups barbeque sauce (depending on how much you like it)

Mix all ingredients together and do your thing on the grill or in a skillet. Then get out your finest stationery and write Gigi a letter to tell her that her burger is the best thing that’s ever happened to you.